


You're not over yet

by Yuu_chi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Codependency, Comfort/Angst, Coming to terms with life changing circumstances, Depression, Everyone but Kageyama and Hinata are extremely minor characters, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor graphic content, happy ending??, kind of, self blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuu_chi/pseuds/Yuu_chi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata breaks. Kageyama breaks with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're not over yet

They're walking home from school bouncing a volleyball between them when it happens.

Kageyama throws the ball too high, too hard, and Hinata reaches for it, stretching out step after step until he’s off the sidewalk and –

It goes so fast that Kageyama doesn't even realize anything is wrong until there's nobody there to catch the ball, just the _thud-thud-thud_ as it bounces off down the street and the overpowering shriek of tires pulling hard on tarmac.

Hinata doesn't even get a chance to scream.

Kageyama does.

.

They pull out of finals.

He knows it's his fault. They'd lost Hinata, but they could have soldiered on, tried to do it for him, but Kageyama just couldn't. Every time he tosses he remembers the blur of Hinata's face as the car had pulled him away like a shooting star, the blue and yellow of the ball as it spun away with no hands to stop it.

Every time he tries to toss he remembers that. The empty space where Hinata was. The clap of the ball as it falls to the pavement.

There's nobody there to catch the toss.

.

“Shouyou wouldn't want this,” Kenma says.

_I don't want this_ , Kageyama thinks.

“I can't,” he says.

Kenma purses his lips but doesn't push.

.

Kageyama can no longer sleep without remembering the smell of rubber burning as the car spun to a halt, the look of blank shock on Hinata's face even though his eyes are closed.

And the red. Everywhere red. On Hinata and the ground and the volleyball that is steadily turning in slow circles on the slippery pavement as it rolls off and away.

In Kageyama's dreams nobody comes to help them and it's just him and Hinata and all the red for the rest of ever.

When he wakes up he does so crying and gagging down sick.

(he doesn't tell anybody that he thinks he deserves it).

.

Kageyama had never realized how small Hinata was before, not in any way that counted. He was always at his shoulders, arms around his neck, chin tucked in close so they were cheek-to-cheek. He leapt around the court like he had wings in his back.

Hinata took up space just by being near it.

Now his fingers fold like paper between Kageyama's own and his cheeks are hollow and white, bruised a little from the constant press of the oxygen mask at his mouth.

There's so much space between the bony throw of his arms and the edges of his bed.

Kageyama bites his lips and coaches himself through a handful of breaths because Hinata is watching him with weary eyes, unable to talk or move or even smile, but awake enough to be aware that Kageyama is there with him.

“Sorry,” he says once he gets a grip of himself.

Hinata blinks at him, a slow up and down of lashes that are going frail about the tips.

“Sorry,” Kageyama says again.

(he's not even sure what's he's apologizing for anymore.)

.

A month after the accident Kageyama winds up in hospital himself – the world going this way and that, colours fading and blacking, noises flaring as loud as sirens that echo about in his head, getting trapped in bone to leave an ache that is surprisingly clear even beneath the feel of everything being shaken about.

“It's migraines,” the doctor tells his mother while Kageyama is sedated a little to calm the rapid fire of his brain. “This is the third time, isn't it? Has he been under a lot of stress lately?”

His mother shoots him a terrified glance like she's afraid Kageyama might break down at the very thought of the 'stress' he's been under.

“Um,” she hedges. “Some things have happened lately.”

He'd laugh but everything is rapidly going gray.

When he sleeps that night in a drug induced coma he dreams of nothing.

He wakes up six hours later and the guilt he feels for that is crushing.

.

Two months after the accident Hinata is just starting to be well enough to talk.

His words come in short stops and blurry spills of sounds, syllables stretching until they snap and leave him breathless and confused.

(The first thing he says is Kageyama's name, and Kageyama cries so hard he gives himself another migraine.)

The thing is though, even though he can talk – if barely, only just – he doesn't.

At first the doctors think it's just inactivity, too used to not speaking to be motivated to try, but when days turn to weeks they worry more. Brain trauma, they think, and Hinata undergoes more testing, but that's not it either.

His brain is fixing itself about as well as it can manage and they have tried everything under the sun to make Hinata use his words, but none of that seems to matter.

Three weeks and six or seven tests later Kageyama sits on Hinata’s bed stroking his hand just to be near him even if his skin feels like tissue-paper and he can't press too hard because he might just break him again.

“Don't care,” Hinata says, and Kageyama is so surprised by the sudden words that it takes him a moment to even reply.

“Don't care about what?”

Hinata shrugs and he looks exhausted.

“Everything.”

.

Between Kageyama's depression and Hinata's apathy they start losing friends like dominoes spilling over in a messy line.

Not from the volleyball club though – they were a family, and they smiled and suffered together in equal measure – but classmates who were lucky if Kageyama even showed up these days, fellow teams that they'd gotten friendly with who has been sympathetic to start with, but had their own lives to live, their own ladders to climb.

Hinata and Kageyama were done for. Without the demonic duo Karasuno would fall back to being the unflying crows.

“Stupid,” Hinata says to him and Kageyama knows exactly what he means.

“I'm not being stupid,” he mutters and burrows closer in Hinata's hospital bed. “We're a set. Without you there's no point.”

It's silent for a moment and Kageyama just breathes in the smell of hospital soap and cheap fabric softener that has replaced Hinata's old scent of sun and sweat somewhere along the way. Hinata shifts behind him and his hand comes down to rest in Kageyama's hair.

It's the only assurance that he needs.

.

( _With me you're invincible._

Turns out that was just another promise for Kageyama to break.)

.

Since the accident Kageyama and Hinata had latched themselves together so hard that he barely knew how to function when he wasn't curled up with Hinata on his bed, tangling their fingers together and trying his hardest just to focus on the close feel of skin on skin because even if it's easier to breathe when Hinata's there, things don't snap right just like that.

(not that things will ever be right again.)

“This is unhealthy,” Daichi tells him one day when he ambushes Kageyama en route to the hospital after class. He's wearing his Captain face but there's a faint crumbling about the edge, like face paint drying too soon to make a convincing mask. “This codependency has to stop. It's not helping you and it's not helping Hinata. Neither of you are going to get better at this rate.”

Kageyama stares at him. “Hinata isn't going to get better,” he says and he feels nothing as he says it because he stopped feeling so long ago he can't even remember.

Daichi doesn't back down. “No, Kageyama. That's not how this works. He'll be okay one day, just –.”

Kageyama doesn't even know why he snaps, just that he's so sick of hearing the words 'someday' and 'okay', like Hinata is just waiting up on a shelf for the right repairman to come along and add this, take that, and suddenly he's whole again.

When he comes to he's pressed face first into the ground with Daichi on his back, shouting at him to calm down, to take deep breaths, yelling at the people coming near them to leave them alone, that he can handle this and _you need to calm down Kageyama._

He continues struggling for so long that he actually starts to shake from exhaustion, shouting and shouting until he runs out of words, the sharp hiss of curses like a steady stream leaking out from a puncture somewhere deep inside of him until eventually he runs out of gas.

There's gravel in his mouth and blood on his knuckles that feels too cool against his skin to be his own.

Daichi waits for a few long minutes after Kageyama stops struggling before he loosens his grip on his wrists and eases the heavy knee off his back. Kageyama sits himself upright, his back sore from where Daichi was sitting and his hands trembling and aching from the way they'd been folded so tightly behind him.

There's a bruise blooming across Daichi's cheek and his right eye is starting to swell.

_I've done it again_ , Kageyama thinks almost abstractly because he thinks he ought to be used to hurting the things close to him by now.

“Sorry,” he says. “I'm sorry.”

The words are quiet and exhausted because he knows he doesn't deserve to say them.

“It's okay,” Daichi says. “It's alright, Kageyama.”

Kageyama closes his eyes and shakes his head because it's not.

Around them people are whispering and muttering but Daichi ignores them, just crawls over to Kageyama and sets a thick hand down on his shoulder, pulls him rough and fast so that Kageyama slams into his chest.

“It's okay,” he says again. “You're okay.”

“I'm not though,” Kageyama says, and his voice cracks. “I'm not okay, Hinata's not okay. We're not okay. Nothing is okay.”

Daichi's arms tighten around him. “You will be,” he says and strangely enough, the words don't hurt as much as when Kageyama tries to say them to himself.

They stay like that for a long while and Daichi never once complains even though he's bruised and sore and they're in the middle of a public street and Kageyama has to tell himself that he needs to stop crying all the time.

“It's okay,” Daichi says again as his hands rub up and down his back.

Kageyama gives up and cries so hard that he passes out.

.

Six months since the accident and the doctors start talking about discharge, about physical therapy, about other kinds of therapy too.

Hinata doesn't say anything – not that he would – but Kageyama sees the way his knuckles go white in the bedsheets and the way his already expressionless face slackens even further.

“Hey,” he says once the doctors finish their rounds and it's just the two of them together the way it ought to be. “This is good news.”

Hinata looks at him like he can't figure out if Kageyama is being serious or not.

“No, I'm serious,” he says. “This way we're one step closer to you being better again.”

The words taste a little like lies on his tongue, but Kageyama forces himself to remember Daichi's arms around him, the quiet hush as he talked and talked and made Kageyama promise to _stop_ – stop giving up on everything, both himself and Hinata.

To try and make their _own_ 'okay'.

Kageyama takes one of Hinata's hands and brings it up to place a kiss at his knuckle. “We can do this,” he says and Hinata stares and he realizes this might be the first time he's ever said something like that to Hinata so he says it again because he's got a lot of time to be making up for. "We can do this.”

(and Kageyama realizes that this time the words don't taste quite so bitter.)

.

It's not easy because it if was they would have done this a long time ago. Things don't fix themselves over night, but Kageyama has been in this for the long haul from the start.

He starts going to practice again and the team welcome him back like he'd never left at all. He starts tossing again in small increments and Suga always stays close by just in case Kageyama's hands start shaking again and he needs to step in.

He doesn't play in actual games, but the return to volleyball at all is a step itself.

With Hinata Kageyama tries to stop coddling him. Daichi was right when he'd said they'd become unhealthily codependent, and although nobody had said it out loud Kageyama knew he'd been hindering Hinata's recovery prospects by just being there.

Misery fed off misery. They were sustaining their own circle of self-blame and hatred and the first step away from that was for Kageyama to try to start moving forwards himself – not alone though, never alone.

.

“No,” he says and Hinata looks at him like he's just slapped him. It hurts and Kageyama aches to reach out and soothe away that expression with the tips of his fingers, but he holds strong. “If you want something, you need to tell me.”

Hinata makes a hostile sound and makes another grabbing motion with his hands but Kageyama shakes his head. “No. Not like that. You need to talk.”

The look Hinata gives him is filthy, but Kageyama remains patient.

Some days are better than others, and today is obviously a difficult one, but he knows he can get Hinata there in the end and it'll be worth it.

Hinata takes in a deep breath, stares at him, opens his mouth for a moment only to shut it again with a look of intense frustration.

“Words,” Kageyama says, softer this time.

Hinata closes his eyes, bites his lip and says: “ _Hand_.”

It's not a complete sentence – not even a sentence at all – but it's enough for now. They have time and Kageyama is willing to take this at a pace Hinata can work with. He'll push him when he needs to be pushed but he'll wait when he needs to as well, just like he always has.

Just like he always will.

“Okay,” he says and reaches over to take Hinata's hand with his own.

.

A year and a half since the accident and Hinata finally lets Kageyama take him outside properly.

“Just for a little bit,” he allows, fingers tight on the grips of his wheelchair. “Just because you want to so much.”

“Yeah,” he says and doesn't push, because Hinata has made progress in leaps and bounds lately – has stopped hoarding his words like treasures, and the other week Kageyama caught him with his volleyball uniform spread out in his lap, fingers smoothing along it like it was something precious and a look in his eyes that was as close to the old Hinata as he'd gotten. “Just for a little bit.”

Hinata's mother smiles at him like the sun when he asks her if he can take Hinata for a walk.

“Thank you,” she whispers like it's a secret between them and Kageyama tells himself that he's come too far to become emotional like this so he pulls away and gets going before Hinata can change his mind.

Outside the path is rough and bumpy beneath Hinata's wheels and he grumbles a little about it under his breath, but he doesn't sound sincere and Kageyama lets him go because it's still good to hear Hinata speaking about nothing like this.

“People are staring,” Hinata says as they pass by a group of joggers.

“No they're not,” Kageyama assures him.

“Yes they are. This was a bad idea.”

“Don't be stupid. Nobody's looking at you.”

“ _You're_ stupid.”

Kageyama ignores him, steers them over to a park bench so that they have a perfect view of the neighborhood park's greenery without being close enough to mingle with the people and make Hinata uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he says as he sits down on the bench and sets the breaks on the wheelchair. Hinata grunts. “Do you want to go watch Karasuno's practice game against Nekoma tomorrow?”

Hinata goes silent for so long that Kageyama thinks he's not going to answer, that he pushed too hard too fast and Hinata is going to withdraw again, but after a moment he answers in a voice that's too casual and balanced to be anything short of entirely deliberate. “We'll see.”

“Okay,” Kageyama says quietly and there's a quiet rustle of clothes and lap-blankets as Hinata reaches up with one hand to rest his fingers atop Kageyama's.

“I'll go,” he says after a moment, “if you play in it.”

Kageyama almost says no but Hinata's fingers are hot on top of his own and he's never had the willpower to tell Hinata anything but _yes_.

“Okay,” he says, and the words are chokey in his throat. “Okay. Yeah. If you come I'll play.”

“Good,” Hinata says and then he smiles and it's so close to 'before' that Kageyama is blind and breathless and when Hinata reaches forward to take his face gently in his hands and guide him forward into a soft kiss the world explodes into colour again.

Their lips move together for a second, soft but sure, and when they pull away Kageyama keeps their fingers linked a little desperately because he'll never entirely be over the need for that.

“Thanks,” Hinata says, and Kageyama knows that he's not thanking him for the walk or the park or the kiss but a million other things at once.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, because he still doesn't know how to say _you're welcome_ or _it's okay_ or anything that isn't _sorry_ , but he's working on it. They're not okay, not even close, but they're working on it, and that's something more than he'd ever expected six months ago.

But they can wait.

They can make do.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the brain sludge of listening to deliberately depressing music in the middle of the night. Originally this was going to be a lot shorter but then it kept going and going. At least nobody dies this time?


End file.
